


Measured

by bigblackdog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Choking, Crossdressing, M/M, Size Difference, Small Penis, Topping, some might say overthinking topping, thinking about topping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 15:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblackdog/pseuds/bigblackdog
Summary: Remus wants a lot of things and doesn't know how to articulate all the ways he wants to be impossibly caring and carelessly mean.





	Measured

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Writcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/gifts).



> thank you to the mods for hosting kinkfest! especially this year, after certain platforms made certain decisions about "adult content". grateful for the community and encouragement of kinkfest! 
> 
> thank you earlybloomingparentheses for the reading and reassurance. 
> 
> the prompt was "small penis" and, i'm sorry writcraft, i'm afraid small penis pwp became remus lupin's Feelings About Topping (pwp??).

 

Remus sits, sewing a patch on his tweed blazer and thinking about painstakingly stitched patches on stereotypical tweed blazers, gray hair and mild-manners, and the convict on his way. He is careful not to follow the paths of other thoughts: Harry alone in a graveyard with Voldemort, Dumbledore's letter, Padfoot  _ walking _ here from Hogwarts.

 

He follows the outline of the patch with thread and the occasional accidental prick of the needle keeps him from floating out of his body. Sirius is on his way. 

 

They haven't seen each other since the Shrieking Shack and Remus worries Sirius will walk in and see a kindly graying ex-professor mending in his small, tidy house. At this point in his life it feels as if there's no one who knows Remus is hungry and mean, who would even believe Remus could be hungry and mean. Everyone knows Sirius is hungry and mean. But Remus has patched up all his fraying edges with carefully controlled stitches-- good manners and a certain way of dressing and a certain way of staying quiet until he no longer knows what's really underneath to show. Or if he wants Sirius to see it.

 

A cursory knock followed by a rattle; like Sirius thought he would walk right in and that makes Remus smile.

 

He sets his mending down and unlocks the door and Sirius pushes in.

 

His breath catches, looking at Sirius, ragged and dirty and rocking on his feet like he's trying hard to hold himself still. They stand for a long moment, staring, Remus with arms awkwardly by his side. And then he registers the absolute absurdity of not touching Sirius  _ right now _ , and rushes forward to cup Sirius' dirty face, feeling grit beneath his thumbs.

 

"Smells like you in here."

 

"You're here. God you're  _ here. _ Not some fucking  _ cave  _ in the bleeding  _ Highlands _ ."

 

"I've had worse," Sirius says, looking exhausted but finding a smile.

 

"Harry? Has Harry been in touch? Dumbledore's letter was rubbish."

 

Sirius opens his mouth, pauses, and then closes it, shaking his head. "Can we-- later? I just want--" Sirius presses the cold tips of his fingers to the warm skin just under Remus' jumper and leans heavily on Remus like he could fall asleep standing.

 

"Yes, okay. Of course," Remus says, relieved that all Sirius wants from him is to be held upright.

 

Remus softly kisses Sirius, brief and sweet, and brings him to the bathroom where the bright fluorescent bulbs illuminate just how dirty he is: burrs caught in his clothes, scratches on his smudged cheeks, blisters on the tender skin of his palms. Remus hold Sirius' hands tenderly in his own, trying not to run his thumbs over the taut, shiny blisters or cry or think too long about how much his heart is aching seeing blisters on his beloved's tenderest skin.

 

Sirius is  _ here,  _ taking up space in Remus' tiny bathroom so that turning on the water and fetching a flannel, and leaning over to the medicine cabinet for a healing potion can all happen with one hand on Sirius.

 

Sirius is quiet and very still on the bath mat while Remus crowds close to him, murmuring healing spells barely audible over the resonating splash of hot water filling the tub. Remus can't stop fussing over him: banishing burrs, kissing behind his ear, a few perfunctory cleaning spells for the worst of the dirt, combing his fingers through his hair, tying it so it won't get wet, kissing the little wisps that curl around his temples and ears.

 

Sirius moves to take off his robes but Remus stops him, does it for him, tossing them straight into the bin. He's not wearing anything underneath and Remus feels a pang of hurt somewhere around his stomach, thinking of Sirius' sweet small cock exposed and unprotected. He'll take care of that too.

 

Remus takes off his patched jumper and his worn trousers and worn pants and threadbare socks, his knees and elbows bumping into Sirius.

 

He nestles them into the bath together, cradling Sirius between his legs, guiding his head to the crook of his shoulder. The only sounds now are the intermittent plink of single drops leaking from the faucet. Sirius' bony shoulder blades rest against Remus' bony chest. Sharp and sharp shouldn't feel so soft but Sirius  _ melts _ against him, indulgently and exhaustedly heavy, like he intends to dissolve and sink into Remus.

 

He’s so perfect, long legs hard from walking and his broad tattooed chest, so tall and bloody handsome and in the middle of all that, his soft, small cock, barely the length of Remus' thumb— the only part of Sirius’ strong, lean body that could be called  _ sweet _ . Remus loves it; loves it because it fits in his hand and his mouth like it was made to be there, but also because it’s the only part of Sirius' body that doesn’t meet everyone’s expectations and not meeting expectations, not even caring about them, is so very Sirius. 

 

Christ, but he wants him. The wanting spills into his fingertips when Sirius reaches for a flannel and Remus takes it from him with a mumbled "Can I?”

 

He washes the dirt from the backs of Sirius' ears, his belly button, his armpits. He's embarrassed by his excessive need to dig into all these little places, to do everything Sirius can do for himself, but he doesn't stop. Sirius lets his head loll back against Remus' shoulder, eyes closed and uttering soft  _ mm _ 's of appreciation. So he runs the flannel between each of Sirius' long bony fingers, sucks each wrinkled finger into his mouth.

 

He wants to call Sirius love, or darling, or, he cringes internally,  _ baby _ . He keeps his mouth shut, sucking around a finger instead. It sounds exactly like something Sirius would hate: being babied and told to sit back and let someone else do the work. They only have so much time together.

He runs his hands all over Sirius' warm pink skin, tattoos more stark now that he's clean; the skin he warmed and he cleaned. 

 

"So you want to take care of me?" Sirius asks, with a kind of knowing smile one slant away from teasing.

Remus makes what he hopes is a very casual, noncommittal noise. "Is it alright?”

 

Sirius mimics his hum, definitely teasing now, and rolls his head a little to press his still cold nose into the warmth of Remus' neck. "You want to take care of me," he says, drawing out  _ care  _ and sounding a little smug.

 

Remus just rolls his eyes and smooths his hands over Sirius' hip bones, more prominent than he remembers, and over to his coarse pubic hair and his tiny cock. He lightly scratches into the hair and then tugs sharply, watching his little cock plump up and pleased that Sirius is no longer smug but still, waiting. He closes his fist softly around the whole length of him, covering it, like he needs to keep it safe.

 

Remus has always gotten the impression Sirius couldn't be bothered to care that his cock is quite small. Still, Remus never let himself look for long when they were younger, worried Sirius would misinterpret his staring as some kind of pitying fascination and unable to find the phrases to tell him he loves his small cock without sounding like false reassurance. He was so worried about so many things then, inventing nuances of hurt feelings and expecting misunderstandings everywhere. He still is. 

 

He doesn't know how to tell Sirius he loves his small cock, thinks it's sweet and precious and wants to feed Sirius sweet things and tip a glass of water to his lips and that he also wants to make Sirius wear knickers and tell him it's because his cock is so tiny and hope it embarrasses him, he wants to choke him and tell him to lick up come.

 

Remus wants a lot of things and doesn't know how to articulate all the ways he wants to be impossibly caring and carelessly mean. 

 

When they get out Remus towels Sirius dry, patting gently at his ears and rubbing down his arms and back. He gets on his knees to rub the towel over Sirius' legs and pats it around Sirius' half hard cock. 

 

"What else do you like now?"

 

Remus rubs his lips against the foreskin, thin soft skin touching thin soft skin. "Like you're little cock."

 

Sirius nudges his cock against Remus' mouth. "Yeah?"

 

"Always wanted to tell you, but I thought you might feel--" Remus cuts himself off, tongueing Sirius' foreskin back.

 

"Are you insinuating I should be ashamed of my cock?"

 

"No!" Remus stands up quickly, heart tripping but Sirius is just taking the piss. He laughs and Remus exhales. "You arsehole."

 

"A bit, yeah." Sirius steps closer, wrapping his large hand around Remus' cock and pushing his small one up next to it. "I've always gotten off on how they look together." 

 

Remus can't breath. "Have you?" He's always wanted to say, to point out.

 

"Your cock looks so fucking big next to mine."

 

Remus manages a "nngh" before he surges up to lick into Sirius' mouth, lightly across his lips, tongue tingling and feeling like he could kiss Sirius for the entirety of the week. 

 

"I think you should tell me all the other things you've always wanted to tell me about my little cock. Everything you've thought up since we were twenty one."

 

"Because I've spent the last thirteen years thinking about your cock." Remus says leaving the bathroom and tugging Sirius with him to his bedroom.

 

Remus sits down on the edge of his worn bed with its worn quilt-- more patches-- and watches as Sirius starts opening all his drawers and digging around. He tosses Remus a pair of his own pants and pulls on a pair of Remus' black briefs, before dramatically collapsing onto the bed.

 

"Unhh. A bed. This feels so fucking good." Sirius stretches his arms and legs out wide and grins up a Remus. "This is a good bed."

 

"Yes, yes. Just because you've been roughing it for a decade or so doesn't mean you can take up the whole bed," Remus says, sliding his legs underneath the quilt.

 

Sirius lazily rolls his head a bit to look up at Remus and trails cold fingers up and down Remus' side for a moment. His fingers have already lost the heat from their bath.

 

"So what else is there?"

 

"What makes you think there's anything else? Can't a man just like his boyfriend's small cock?" 

 

"Come on Remus. You were always holding out on me," Sirius says, promptly taking Remus out of his teasing mood.

 

"That's not-- I wasn't always. That's a shit thing to say."

 

"Fuck-- I didn't mean," Sirius rubs both his eyes hard. "Look, I've just told Dumbledore he can use Grimmauld as the headquarters for the Order. He wants me to hide out there. Can we please have whatever filthy sex you're thinking of in this nice sunny room on top of your old lady quilt? Before I get shut up in that awful house."

 

Remus takes a deep breath and tugs Sirius over to hold him close to his side. He combs Sirius’ hair back behind his ear and softly pinches his earlobe, thinking. 

 

"I don't think I knew enough then to be able to voice some of this stuff."

 

"I didn't mean--"

 

"It's fine. I just wanted to explain. It's still not easy to talk about."

 

Sirius moves to lay half on top of Remus. "I'll help," he says eagerly. "Do you want to take the piss about my small dick? Is that it?" 

 

"I--"

 

"You can you know. Tell me it's fucking tiny and useless." Sirius shifts even closer, pushing his leg between Remus'. "Is that what you want?" he asks, rubbing his thigh against Remus' cock.

"Not just that." 

 

"What else?" Sirius demands, bringing his hand down to vigorously rub Remus' cock.

 

What Remus wants is for once in his life to do whatever comes to mind without second guessing. He wants to do what he wants, the way Sirius always seems to. "I want to tell you what to do."

 

Sirius' hand abruptly stops rubbing. He's very still except for the heavy panting. 

 

"All kinds of things, and you just do it. Want to make you wear knickers over your tiny cock. Call you sweet names. Or tell you to…"

 

"Tell me what?" Sirius whispers, breath hot against Remus’ neck, hand resuming, now a slow, luxurious rolling kind of rub, Sirius' whole body moving with it. 

 

"It's not nice. It's not nice Sirius. I want to be…" Remus feels a lump form in his throat at the admission and swallows it down. "I want to be mean to you. Be rough about it."

 

"Yeah?" Sirius asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer, instead surging up to kiss Remus, sliding his tongue into Remus' mouth, deep into Remus' mouth, like he pushed into Remus' home and dug into Remus' drawers.

 

"Go on then," he says when he breaks off. 

 

"What? You mean now?"

 

"Yeah. Go on."

 

"Do you understand I just said I want to  _ hurt _ you? We can't just--"

 

"I'll tell you to stop if I need to."

 

"It's hard to, in the middle of it. You'll be, I don't know. You might not."

 

Sirius wraps his arms around Remus and rolls on top of him, crushing their bodies together and putting his forehead up against Remus' to look him in the eye. "Remus Lupin. When have I ever kept my mouth shut?" Remus laughs. "I'll tell you," Sirius promises again. 

 

"You really want me to?"

 

"I want you to."

 

Remus takes a deep breath. He hasn't felt this nervous about sex since he was a fourth year and trying to angle his erection away from Nancy Hawthorne's body behind the greenhouses. 

 

"Ok," he says, rolling Sirius over, threading a hand through his hair, "Ok," he says again, and kisses Sirius. 

 

Remus lets himself relax into Sirius for a moment. Let's himself suck on Sirius’ tongue and relax into the idea that all the things he thinks about are allowed to come out of his mouth. That he can just… say what he wants to. If only he could lick and kiss up some of the impulsive abandon Sirius’ mouth has mastered. 

 

He reaches across Sirius to get his wand from the bedside table, pointing it at the briefs Sirius is wearing. 

 

Remus watches Sirius’ face as he transfigures the black briefs into knickers. White cotton knickers, no lace, just a pretty edge of elastic and a tiny pink bow beneath the waistband. Remus watches Sirius look down at them, and when he looks up again his expression is gorgeous, pink mouth parted and wide eyes full of wanting, so vulnerable. 

 

"You look so pretty." Remus says, eyes flicking over Sirius' open mouth breathing hard, his chest heaving, the trail of dark tattoos skipping down his soft flat stomach, to the knickers. Pink bow and Sirius’ tiny cock hard beneath them. "Look how well they fit,” Remus says with a burgeoning awe. “Your cock looks so good in them." 

 

Sirius strains up to kiss Remus with a little whine, like he  _ likes _ it. Like it’s ok. Remus feels shaky, his arms feel loose and tingly, but Sirius is okay. He leans down to Sirius’ ear, lips skimming the ridges there and whispers, because it feels easier to whisper what he’s thinking, to let his hard, sharp thoughts come out softly, “I’d keep you in knickers all the time.”

 

Remus rolls onto his back, pulling Sirius with him, sliding one leg up against Sirius' little cock in his little white panties. He trails his fingers over the waistband, lightly feeling the rough edge of scalloped elastic. "Do you like them?” Sirius hides his face Remus’ neck briefly and nods. 

 

Remus reaches up to brush Sirius' hair away from his face, brush it back over and over, and lift his head up. "Oh darling," he whispers prompting another little whine from Sirius. "Go on love," he says, pushing up into Sirius' groin. "So desperate aren't you?" Sirius nods again, still wide eyed, like he didn't think Remus would really do it, like he really is desperate and so grateful someone finally sees it. "So desperate. Go on, fuck yourself on my leg." Remus grips one of Sirius' arse cheeks in one hand, while the other gently holds Sirius' head, fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding his head so tenderly. 

 

"You look so good in knickers Sirius." Sirius moans and drools a bit onto Remus' chest. "You like them don't you? Like wearing pretty little knickers?"

 

Sirius makes a noise of frustration and readjusts and Remus can feel his little cock on his hip bone. "Poor thing," Remus cooes, and then, heartbeat loud in his ears, "Can't even rub off your little cock." 

 

Sirius sobs out a "Yeah," digging his nails into Remus' arm, hiding his face in Remus' neck. 

 

"Yeah?" Remus asks, breathless. Because this is it, he's crossed into a place where it’s not just dirty, He can say what he wants because Sirius will just take it, will want it. Sirius nods against his neck and breathes out another "yeah," hips working hard to press himself into Remus' hip.

 

Tentative but elated Remus asks, "Have you ever fucked anyone with that useless little cock?"

 

"It's too small," Sirius says breathlessly, guilelessly, and Remus isn't sure if he's playing along or if he really hasn't. 

 

"Bet it's like getting finger fucked, getting fucked by your tiny little cock." 

 

Sirius whines and tries to palm himself through his pants but Remus catches his wrist and the feel of the soft skin and knobby bone of Sirius’ wrist thrills Remus. He tightens his grip and a panted  _ yeah _ sends wonder and incredulity pulsing through him. It isn’t permission, exactly, an affirmation that this thrilling carelessness is mutually desired. 

 

Remus slips his hand under the knickers and rubs his fingers against Sirius' hole. Such a sweet hole, soft and yielding and it makes Remus feel softer for a moment. "There's so much I want to do with you," Remus whispers.

 

"What?"

 

Remus continues to stroke gently over Sirius' hole. "Want to leave bruises on your wrists. Spank you. Call you my good boy and spank you." Remus grips Sirius' arse cheek. "You've got a perfect arse for spanking." Sirius groans. "Would you like that?" Remus asks. Sirius nods fervently into Remus' neck. 

 

Remus pauses, presses a little kiss to Sirius' hair. "Really?" he asks quietly. It’s hard for Remus to allow himself to want to hurt Sirius but it doesn’t seem to phase Sirius at all. "You'd really want that?"

 

"Merlin, yes."

 

"Can you come like this Sirius? Can you get yourself off rutting against my leg?"

 

Sirius nods. "Of course you can. So needy. So desperate you'll just come in your knickers."

 

"Can you?" Sirius pants, guiding Remus' hand to his hair and tugging. "Can you?"

 

"Yes sweetheart. Yes darling, I'll pull your hair." Remus winds his fingers into Sirius' thick hair and pulls until Sirius gasps. He scratches Sirius' scalp softly, lazily, winding his way to a different spot and tugs again, even harder. Sirius gasps and stiffens still on top of Remus and Remus can feel wet against his hip bone. Sirius' hips start working again, small pulses prolonging his orgasm and he lets out something like a sob.

 

"Oh baby. Oh my poor darling. That's it, fuck your little cock into me." 

 

Sirius grinds his little cock into Remus, his wet knickers dragging along Remus' skin before he collapses on top of him. Remus gathers him up, holding him close as he shudders and shakes and mouths at Remus.

 

"You look so pretty. Christ." Remus can't even begin to describe how sweet Sirius looks right now, how it makes him feel, so he just takes his time looking, Sirius shivering and trying to get his breath back, looking up at Remus. Remus smoothes a bit of hair stuck to Sirius' lips away, thumbs at the spit wet corner of his mouth. 

 

He looks wrecked, relaxed; and Remus considers the tension he still feels. He doesn't have to weigh and consider and accommodate. There's no measured contemplation or second guesses, he doesn't need to find just the right thing to do and say to be Remus Lupin, mild mannered werewolf professor. He can be mean.

 

"I want come all over your face." 

 

Sirius hums and starts tonguing Remus' palm. "Do it Moony." 

 

Remus shifts down the bed, intending to straddle Sirius but he sees Sirius' white knickers soaked in come. He rubs his fingers over the wet patch and then slides them down Sirius' long trembling legs.

 

He crawls back over Sirius and rubs the wet knickers on Sirius' face, against his cheek. "Holy shit," Sirius whispers and Remus smiles, loving Sirius so much. 

 

"You got your knickers all dirty," he says, sliding them slowly over to Sirius' mouth, letting him know his intention, giving him space, but Sirius opens his mouth a little wider, panting, tongue licking over to the corner of his mouth. So Remus pushes the knickers into Sirius' mouth with two fingers, feels Sirius tonguing at and sucking on the knickers around Remus' fingers, sees Sirius looking desperate and wild and so so sweet. "That's it," Remus says softly, "That's it, clean up your dirty knickers. So good for me darling." 

 

Sirius whines and Remus sits up, straddling his waist and starts slowly stroking his cock. "You look so good. Sucking on your own spunk." Sirius arches up underneath him and Remus can feel his wet soft cock in between his arse cheeks. He rocks back and forth on it for a moment before shuffling forward. 

 

Sirius is making little sucking sounds around his mouthful of knickers and rubbing his hands up Remus' thighs, around to his arse, pulling and grabbing at him wildly, until Remus is fisting his cock lazily above Sirius' face. Sirius strains up to nuzzle his cheek along Remus' cock.

 

Remus pulls the knickers out of his mouth and rests his cockhead on Sirius' bottom lip. "Is this what you want?" He taps the head against Sirius’ lips a few times, watching Sirius try to chase it with his tongue.

 

"Choke me."

 

"You mean?"

 

"Yeah. Yeah, fuck, Choke me with it. Choke me with your fat cock Moony." 

 

“Oh god,” Remus groans, hanging his head for a moment— it’s too much— before he meets Sirius’ eyes. He looks so wrecked already, trembling, hair tangled in his own come smeared on his cheek. The tingling feeling sweeps through Remus’ arms again and he can see them shaking. 

 

“Get up,” he says, no longer whispering. “Sit up and suck my cock.”

 

Sirius scrambles to push himself up, and Remus crowds close to him, pushing him back up against the headboard. Sirius goes slack against the headboard, body loose and pliable. Remus thumbs his mouth open, holding his chin between thumb and forefinger and Sirius let’s his tongue loll out like the dog he is.

 

He winds his tingling numb fingers into Sirius’ hair and pushes into his warm mouth. Sirius just looks at him, waiting, it’s up to Remus to start fucking his mouth. He rocks back and forth just a little, then a little more.

 

Sirius isn’t sucking just slack and drooling around his cock. He looks like he would let Remus do  _ anything _ to him. 

 

The bindings Remus has carefully reinforced with his soft voice and sweaters and the shuffling aside of all his wanting rend and Remus pushes his cock into Sirius’ mouth until he gags. Remus can imagine himself apologizing, a flash of a vision of backing off, pulling back, and he pushes in further, feels Sirius’ throat tight around him. He can feel him  _ swallow _ , like he wants to take Remus right down, suck him in to his core and then it’s easy to choke Sirius on his cock. 

 

And Remus still doesn’t know how it all fits together, the tenderness of service and the tenderness of taking, the play of not caring about what Sirius needs and the caretaking of his desire to be used, but his cock fits in Sirius’ throat and Sirius’ cock fits in his hand and it’s so  _ good _ . 

 

Remus pulls out and comes on the corner of Sirius’ mouth and his cheek. His hair gets caught in it and Remus rubs his cock through, drags it through his spunk and spreads it all around. He stays on top of Sirius, sitting over him looking at his spunk all over Sirius' face, the proprietary joy of it, for long moments. Looks at Sirius panting like he's just come, all his wide-eyed vulnerability. 

 

"So good, so so good," he says, trying to explain. “You’re so good, so good to me. This is so good.” 

 

Remus reaches for the knickers and uses the dry part to gently wipe the come off Sirius' face. He wipes all the come and spit and tears off, dropping kisses on Sirius' cheeks, his forehead, the corner of his mouth. Sirius shudders underneath him and leans up, voice rough, "You're too far away." 

 

Remus lays himself out on top of Sirius, holds his face between his hands, stroking his hair and murmuring praise and small promises in between kisses. 

 

"Was it ok? Are you ok?"

 

Sirius lets out a shaky laugh. "It was more than okay. Christ Remus."

 

“Your  _ voice _ .”

 

“You like it,” Sirius says like he expects Remus to disagree. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sirius smiles brightly and says in his rough voice, “Like you like this."

 

Remus huffs out a laugh. “When I’m being an arsehole to you?”

 

“You know it’s not that.”

 

“No,” Remus concedes. “But it feels dirtier admitting you want to hurt someone. Exploit their small cock. Generally be the Oppressor.” He means it sardonically, but also Remus’ life has been filled with the kind of head down meekness and exhaustion handed down by the powers that be, and after school, the constant performance proving he’s kind, employable, not violent, not angry. Wanting to hold the power, wanting to be in control, feels like admitting he wants to be like  _ them _ . It feels dirty and shameful in the kind of way that doesn’t feel good.    
  


Sirius laughs. “The oppressor, god Remus. I was in  _ prison _ — the  _ oppressor _ . You’re not it.” He snuggles closer and kisses Remus’ forehead. “Let up on yourself. Look, I’ve had a lot of time to think about power dynamics. I don’t know. Maybe it’s playing into the system of power dynamics that have basically ruined our whole lives,” Sirius smiles, “but it’s also manipulating those dynamics a little, to give us some relief. That’s not bad.” 

  
Remus nods silently, lump in his throat. His darling who gives him relief, who gives himself up to give him some relief from the constant struggle inside his head about right and good and being and seeming right and good.    
  


“It feels good, yeah?”

  
Remus nods again and Sirius shrugs, like  _ there you go _ . Maybe that’s all there is to it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i'm over on dreamwidth these days. stop by if you want to see me ramble my way to a non-conclusion about barthes :)
> 
> https://bigblackdog.dreamwidth.org/


End file.
